I wanted to say something that i wanted to hear as well.
I waited for twenty minutes, and this is all i could tell.
Monday, July 20
Thursday, July 16
I'm lost. Without a torch or a beacon. A rhyme or a reason. Even the mirror seems untrue. I fail to recognise myself from who i once was. The sacrosanct solitude has been breached by sundry circumstances that are threaded together in what at times becomes a perpetual hallucination substituting life. Everything is so perfect, so right and so rigid that i can't help but detest it. There were objectives i had clearly defined before i dived into this corporate drain. I knew i'd have to fight the gravity of the system to stay afloat. Why is it always so easy to embrace mediocrity? So easy to give up on ideals and blame them for being lofty. Why is it always easier being someone else and why is it so difficult knowing it all along? There are no questions, only derelict solutions that lie in wait. A malnourished intellect feeding on subterfuge. How long can we hide the truth about the simple things in life. About love, passion, pain, joy. The simplicity of being maligned by the convenience of ignorance that we latch on to in our daily lives. Even the ignorance isn't pure. We know and then we unknow. It's easier. Until the doors of perception open to give us a glimpse of the outer world. Why then do we shut it when we ought to walk through? Maybe these are sluggish questions born out of sleep depravation. But what good is it to wake up from one slumber into another?
Wednesday, July 15
The pictures are clear in my head. The ambulance, the ICU, the medicines, the wait. Your comatose body soaked in sweat. And tears. We waited three months to speak to you. To hear your voice. Now, we just speak of you. I can't stop missing you. Maybe, i'll just learn to live with it. Maybe i have. But there was so much left to tell you and one thing left to ask. Could you hear me as i spoke to you, for days at end by your bed? Or do you still hear me when i stop thinking that you're dead?